Autograph
by lovablegeek
Summary: [PreRENT] Maureen kisses him, and Benny pretends he doesn't notice how little he means it. BennyMaureen, MarkMaureen. [One shot]


Maureen kisses him,and Benny pretends he doesn't notice how little she means it. Instead, he just settles his arms around her waist and returns the kiss, while she presses herself against him like she's trying to meld herself to his side. When she pulls away, it's with a flash of a smile, and she reaches up to push dark, wavy hair away from her face. "Hey, baby," she says brightly, and goes back to exactly where she was sitting on the couch before, when he came in. "Where were you?"

She beckons for him to sit down beside her, and he does, because it's Maureen and no one ever says no to her. "I was at work, Maureen. Some of us do have jobs."

He regrets the comment almost the moment it's out of his mouth. Saying things like that only gets her to pout at him – like she is now – and make him feel like the worst person in the world for pointing out something that happens to be true. People aren't supposed to operate on reality around Maureen, they're supposed to operate under whatever rules she gives them, and if the rules change, they're expected to keep up.

"I'm a _performance artist_," she says, like he didn't know that already, her tone the perfect mixture of injury and reprimand. "That_ is _my job." She sits straight up suddenly, and her smile makes him a little nervous. "Hey, do you want to help me with my next performance? I have a great idea..."

It's not a question, and he says yes, because there's never any other choice with Maureen.

_doesn't anybody let you out of your cage?  
sanctuary from the stage_

Maureen gives him the most profoundly disappointed look imaginable, and Benny just sighs. Just because he promised to help doesn't mean he has any idea what he's doing. To tell the truth, he's got no idea what he's _supposed_ to be doing, and he's not sure Maureen does either. But somehow she expects him to be able to get all this equipment working, and he's not sure why _him_ except that he's her boyfriend and therefore expected to do and be everything for her.

"Look, Maureen, you should go home," he tells her. All this might be easier if she weren't watching him and asking periodically if he knows what he's doing – despite his answers of no every time. "I'll call you when I get it set up."

Maureen presses her lips together thoughtfully, looking dubious. "Are you sure? I could just get Mark to..."

"Yes, I'm sure. You don't need to get Mark." He's having trouble keeping his frustration out of his voice, but Maureen seems to buy it, or maybe doesn't care. She steps up to him and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him, hands on his shoulders.

"Thank you, Benny," she murmurs, that low tone that's guaranteed to wind anyone around her finger. "Don't stay out here too long, okay?"

She doesn't wait for an answer before walking off, but nevertheless he murmurs sardonically under his breath, "Yeah, okay," and turns back to look at the equipment. He still ha no idea what he's doing. Damn it, he'll just hire someone to deal with it.

_empty and enamored, crazy and composed  
posing for the ones they victimize_

Maureen comes home late, and Benny doesn't say a word. He knows where she's been – it's there in her lazy, self-satisfied smile, secretive and telling all at once, like a cat's smile. She sidles up to him, wraps her arms around his neck and nuzzles his cheek, like a cat marking him as_ hers_. But she's so delicate, so _young_, barely nineteen, that he can't believe there are any claws beneath what she does, he can't believe she means to hurt him. And it doesn't hurt him – there's the sense that he ought to be bothered by what he knows she's been doing, he ought to be upset or hurt, but...

Maureen's not a cat, she's a kitten, chasing after strings, and she doesn't even know what she'd do if she ever really caught one.

Benny kisses her, and doesn't ask where she's been, and isn't sure he cares. The kiss is enough, her small body pressed against his, the reminder that wherever she's been she keeps coming back to him, for whatever reason. It's enough.

_your affection is a dress rehearsal  
and your kiss is like an autograph_

Maureen's across the room on the couch with Mark, all but on his lap, and Benny focuses his attention on anything else. He can hear her laugh, soft and quickly stifled as she buries her face against Mark's neck. Maureen's just like that, and Mark's her friend, she doesn't mean anything by it. No matter that he knows she sleeps with other guys, it's _Mark_, he's too close to Benny, he wouldn't do that, even if Maureen would.

So Benny lets it go, focuses all of his attention on the paper he's reading, and so what if Maureen's on Mark's lap and blatantly flirting with him? Coming from Maureen, that doesn't mean anything at all.

The things Mark does mean quite a bit more, though, and Benny's been friends with him long enough to know that. That smile he gives her _means _something, the arm he's got around her waist and that light in his eyes...

Mark comes up to him the next day, when Maureen's out for lunch with some friends, sits down at the table across from him. "Look, Benny–"

Benny doesn't look up. "Is this about Maureen?"

He can tell Mark's surprised by that – he doesn't have to look up to know Mark's startled expression. "Um... yes?" he says, the lift in his voice on the last word making it a question.

Benny nods. He could get upset with Mark. He could ask if Mark loves her, knowing he doesn't, not really, though Benny's fairly sure he doesn't either. He could give him a hard time, but instead he just says, "Then it's fine."

"What?"

"It's fine, Mark." There's an odd silence, as neither of them quite know what to say. Benny breaks it, finally, adding, "Watch out for her, okay? She needs it more than you think."

Maureen comes home a couple hours later and sits on his lap and kisses him, and Benny pretends, just once, that he cares how little she means it.

_and I never was your biggest fan_


End file.
